Reel thunder from down under

If you are one of the diehard admirers of the grittier low-budget end of Australian cinema from the past three decades or so, you'll be delighted to know your love now has a name: Ozploitation. This neologism, so perfect it's truly astounding no one thought of it before, arrives courtesy of director Mark Hartley's action and incident packed documentary Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story of Ozploitation.

Hartley's film, for those unfamiliar with Ozploitation, might seem, at first glance, to be something of an elaborate hoax. Watching clips of the marsupial werewolves of Howling III, or the naked heroine tied to the front of a speeding truck in Fair Game, or the biker funeral procession in Stone, it's easy to pose the question: "Is this a real movie?" The answer is yes.

Connoisseurs of exploitation cinema have always held high regard for the works from down under. At a time when New Australian Cinema meant stylish, artsy films from Bruce Beresford and Peter Weir, the simultaneous wave of exploitation films wasn't so much a reaction as a realisation that all the movie equipment flooding the country could be used for evil as well as good.

In the 1960s and 70s, visiting overseas directors such as Nic Roeg (Walkabout) and Michael Powell (They're a Weird Mob) demonstrated to aspirant homegrown film-makers that the landscape and lifestyle they found so mundane would appear both earthy and exotic on the movie screen. It's no accident that so many Australian films were shot largely outdoors: the stunning landscape and fine weather were the only free resource they had, saving costs and giving the films a dusty, sunbaked look all of their own.

There's a visceral quality to Ozploitation that can't be found elsewhere; small crews, grafting together miles from any form of authority, could do pretty much as they pleased. This was Australian-Rules film-making. Not Quite Hollywood offers anecdotes, apocrypha and gags in quick succession. There are tales of actresses covered in rats, Aboriginal actors going walkabout mid-production, real fights breaking out in staged fight scenes, real drugs consumed in front of the cameras, live rounds fired at actors and rockets attached to cars to make them go faster. Even imported performers weren't safe from this treatment: a livid Henry Silva was suspended from a crane 70ft in the air during the vampire movie Thirst, while George Lazenby, once a James Bond, was set alight in The Man from Hong Kong.

This wasn't the impression of Australian government wanted to give to the world. But although these films weren't meant to last, they're doing just that; they're just too much fun to dismiss or sweep under the carpet. There are some genuine classics to be unearthed, held up for reappraisal. Films such as the recently remade eco-horror The Long Weekend, the off-kilter chillers Patrick and Next of Kin, the stylish Road Games are all long overdue for some respect.

It's not just the so-called "good" ones that are worth seeing: newcomers will find a fully formed, undiscovered ecosystem of film-making. A world of fearless stuntmen like the legendary Grant Page, of entertainment-above-everything directors like Brian Trenchard-Smith, of devious, inventive screenwriters like Everett de Roche. If you're wondering where it all went, then just remember the noisome, noisy Mad Max, unquestionably the most influential Ozploitation film of all. Connoisseur and novice alike will now have plenty of titles to add to their "must see" list - a list that should now be topped by Not Quite Hollywood.

• Not Quite Hollywood is at the Odeon West End tomorrow and at the BFI Southbank on Tuesday as part of the London film festival. Tickets: 020-7928 3232